Fifteen Years
by WunderbarPhalanges
Summary: Fifteen years after departing from the U.S., an urgent call sends Edgeworth back to the States to see someone he thought he'd never see face to face again.


Lounging comfortably in my airline seat, it occurs to me more apparently than usual that the flight from Germany to L.A. is a long and tedious one. The fact that I'm actually returning in the first place is a shock to me. It began with a seemingly urgent call.

"_Edgey! You've got to come back! Nick is sick!"_

"_I remember the last time—"_

"_No, really. You have to come!"_

"_Fine…"_

He sounded urgent, but I know Larry well enough to know the likelihood of dramatization is high. The fact that I'm actually returning shocks me, considering what happened the last time I saw Wright. That day is as fresh in my mind as if it were yesterday. Fifteen years later and the rejection feels as new as if it were still that day.

"Möchten Sie etwas zu trinken Herr Edgeworth?" The flight attendant asks me if I wish for a drink. Half of me wants to tell her to bring the strongest drink on board, but I'm a stronger man than that. "Nein, vielen Dank." She nods at my refusal, giving me a sympathetic look before walking off. Odd… I'm never that transparent. I'm undoubtedly sure that Larry was just being a dramatic imbecile again. It was foolish of me to actually charter a private jet. On the off chance, though… why do I care either way after what happened the last time I saw that man? I shake my head at my own idiocy and bury my nose in a deep, complex book of court cases for the duration of the flight.

…

Standing at the door of Wright's apartment, I realize now this was a foolish mistake. If I had any sense left in me, I would turn and leave right at this moment. A part of me genuinely wishes to see him again, though, no matter the hurt. After all, how could I blame him? I had been the fool that had opened myself up to him, told him how much he meant to me, how deeply I love him. Did I actually expect him to respond positively? If I did, I shouldn't have. Had I given more thought to it, none of this would have happened. All Wright has ever done is bring unnecessary emotions to the surface for me. Lord knows how long I've been standing in front of this door. Enough of that.

"Mr. Edgeworth?" a man with odd antenna hair addresses me. Just like Wright to keep company with people with hair as odd, or in this case odder, than his. "Yes."

"Come in, I'm sure Mr. Wright will want to see you right away."

I doubt that. Perhaps I only came here out of obligation. Maybe if I keep telling myself that…

"Edgey! EDGEY! YOU CAME!" the dramatics could belong to no other than Larry.

"Yes, what is it now? Pnuemonia? The flu? Perhaps a broken leg?" I reply tersely. Tired, dragged down by jet lag, I'm not pleased to be here over what is most likely a small sniffle.

My terse reply is met with silence, uncomfortable 'you could hear a pin drop' silence. In this moment… I know, I realize something is incredibly wrong, that it wasn't just Larry's dramatics. Few times in my life have I felt the pain that consumes my body at this moment, the piercing realization that it hadn't just been dramatics, that something is truly wrong with Wright is enough to cause me to nearly double over in pain. Despite the hurt that he had caused me, I still love the man with every fiber of my being. My heart clenching in my chest, words and the breath that creates them seem to completely escape me. I can feel the eyes of the odd haired man and Larry on me, so I do my best to remained composed. I hate to show my emotions to the world. Gnawing on my tongue, I half recover myself… enough to ask, "Where… where is he?" The odd haired man points in the direction of what I assume is Wright's bedroom. After steadying myself emotionally, I make my way towards the door. I hear a laugh from inside and just the sound of it warms my heart. I recognize it, I know it is Wright's… but I can hear a weakness in it, a weakness that puts a cold drift onto the warmness the laugh has caused and I clench my teeth, knocking on the door as I do.

"Come in!" the voice of a young woman. I raise my eyebrow, wondering who the voice may belong to and then proceed to open the door. The sight that greets my eyes is one I will never be able to forget. Wright looks so thin and pale, with darkness under his eyes and a face sunken in. All I seem to see in his eyes is pain, but something in them seems to brighten when he sees me, "Miles…" His voice is weak and tired, just like his laugh, the pain I feel in my chest, the clenching of my throat only gets worse seeing for myself how ill he is.

"You must be Mr. Edgeworth! Daddy refuses to talk about you as if you were some sort of ex-boyfriend!" the young woman pipes in, the reference to any sort of relationship of that kind with Wright causes a small grimace to come across my face, but I quickly hide it.

"Trucy, Trucy, always assuming things. Do you think that you could possibly give Mr. Edgeworth and me some time alone?"

"Alright!" she leaves the room in nearly a skip, but I catch a flash of pain in her eyes as she goes by.

"Please, come sit… I didn't think you would come, Edgeworth."

I warily eye the chair he has pointed to for a moment before seating myself. I'm still having a difficult time forming any words, as if the air hasn't yet returned to my body. The agony and exhaustion I see in Wright's eyes is nearly enough to kill me. I fight back the compelling urge to just take him in my arms and hold him tight, comfort him in any way I can. A few more moments and I regain my ability to speak, "Larry was quite insistent…" I left out the fact that I had figured it had only been dramatics.

"I told him to be," was Wright's reply. My heart flutters in my chest for a moment before returning to agonizing pain. He had? What for? "I see," was the only reply that I seem to be able to get out of my mouth.

A silence passed between us, a silence filled with Wright's eyes on me, my eyes on the ground. The silence is deafening and seems like it will never end. When Wright breaks the silence, I wished he hadn't. "You ignored my e-mails, didn't you Edgeworth?" It was hard to tell by this time if a stab of pang went into my heart at these words. I had ignored the e-mails. I was afraid of what I'd read in them, some half-hearted apology about how he had reacted to my confession, but no return of the sentiments. "Yes…"

Phoenix scrunched his eyebrows together a bit, "You weren't even curious to see what I had to say, Miles…?" I can't help but being taken aback by his use of my first name. I know what game he's playing, the rare use of my first name always has a more specific impact on me than being called Edgeworth. It is more personal, more intimate. "Is this something we really need to discuss, Wright…?"

Phoenix is silent for a moment, an indecipherable look in his eyes behind the pain. During the silence, I wince as I remember that moment, the way I had finally gotten up my courage to tell Wright how I felt and a reply of, "That's insane, Edgeworth." being thrown back in my face. If only I had made a different choice, there'd be so much less pain in my life now. But could I actually guarantee that? No, no of course not…

"Miles, I really believe that we should—" I interrupt him, this isn't a conversation I wish to have, "It is ancient history, Wright. There is no need to discuss this. It is a worthless direction of conversation." I think I see a flash of emotional pain in Wright's eyes, but I shake it off as hopeful thinking on my part. The silence once again envelopes the room in an uncomfortable manner. My heart aches from so many different things; knowing something is wrong, wishing that I could take him into my arms and hold him and tell him how my love for him has never died. This time though, I won't be so foolish. Apparently, once again, the silence has made Wright too uncomfortable. "So, have you met Apollo?"

"The odd-haired young man?" I ask, my eyebrow arching a bit.

"Yes, yes, that would be him." a small whimper of pain escapes Wright, tugging at my heart.

"Yes, I met him. He answered the door." It is an awkward conversation, I would prefer to sit in silence. The ache that I have felt since the moment when I realized this was more serious than I had first believed hadn't quelled down at all, the same strong pain as ever. "Miles…" thrown out of my thoughts, I gaze into Wright's eyes, the eyes of a man too ill, and seeing it is a stab to my heart. "Yes, Wright?" My reply conceals the pain I feel inside.

Another silence envelops the room, Wright looks puzzled, confused, uncertain. There is something in his eyes, something that makes me realize at this moment that he has something to tell me and doesn't wish to. Deep down, I know what it is. But I refuse to believe it. I can't believe it.

"Miles… I…" he stops short once more, I brace myself. No matter the bracing though, I know that the pain… the pain will be…

"I'm dying…"

It would have been less painful if a dull sword had stabbed me through the heart. I'm sure that any form of physical pain would be less painful than the debilitating and crippling emotional pain in my chest, the feeling of despair in my gut, the air leaving, me being unable to breathe, the ache that could have convinced me that my very soul and heart were about to tear out of my body, if I hadn't known better. I think that my hand flew to my chest, clenching there. My thoughts aren't straight. My control over my emotions seemingly gone. I believe, "No," escapes my lips in several different forms. "Miles…" When he says my name, an indecipherable and uncharacteristic sound of pain escapes my lips. I glance into Wright's exhausted and now confused eyes. I'm sure he has no clue why my reaction is so strong.

"Miles…" I grind my teeth. He begins once again, "Miles, I shouldn't have—" before he can finish his words, I grit my teeth once more and leave his room, fighting back the weak man's tears that are coming to my eyes. I barely notice the glances of the people in the other room as I leave the apartment and make my way to my rental car. The only words I hear as I leave are in the voice of the young woman named Trucy, "I think he cares more about Daddy than Daddy realizes…"

…

I hope to the bottom of my soul that there is no pain deeper than what I experienced when those words left Wright's mouth and came to my ears. A part of me wishes to run, run back to Germany and as fast as I can. But Wright had wanted me here, for whatever reason, he had wanted me here and I can't abandon him. The regret I would feel if I were to run would be immeasurable. He needs me, he has been there for me in the past, no matter what the pain his rejection has brought me… I can't abandon him, not now.

…

It is a few days before I return to Wright's apartment. I knock and receive no answer, and I nearly turn away and leave… but instead I try the door and it is unlocked, so like some amateur burglar, I help myself in. The place is quite dark with the lights off, but it occurs to me that the likelihood that Phoenix has left as well, except perhaps for a hospital visit, is very slim.

I lightly knock on the door of Wright's bedroom. I hear his confused and weak voice, "Come in…" I'm sure he knows everyone is out; I'm appalled that they have left him all alone; then again, I suppose that they all have things to do. But if I… no, if I… it would be a… I steel myself and make my way into the room. It's darker than the day I last visited, but somehow he still manages to recognize me immediately. The tone in his voice… the shock, the exhaustion, the relief… I can't quite understand it. "Miles…"

A moment of silence passes between us, "You returned… I figured you had gone back to Germany by now," my emotions have steeled themselves within the past few days, but these words stab into my heart a little. I had considered it, how could I have considered it? I feel that I should to be truthful with him, "I highly considered it…" I reply. He doesn't seem shocked by this and just motions for me to take a seat at the foot of the bed. The thought makes me slightly uncomfortable, but after a moment's consideration, I do. "It was wrong of me to pull you in to this, Edgeworth." Now it is the returned use of my surname that catches me by surprise, as do his words. "Wrong to pull me into this?" I wish there hadn't been the situation to be pulled into, but the thought of never having seen him again… I push the thoughts out of my mind, I can't think about this, not here… not anywhere someone could see me being weak. I glance at Wright, there is hesitation in his eyes, but finally he speaks up, "Yes… after, 15 years ago… it was wrong of me to…" he cuts himself short, as if he wants to elaborate, but doesn't feel comfortable doing so. I am silent. I don't wish to push. Inevitably, I would only hear something I hadn't wished to. After another few moments of silence, I finally speak, "Do you need anything, Wright?" A small pause, "Yes, I—" he stops short once more. Frankly, I have no idea what is on the man's mind. Our eyes meet, there is still something in his eyes, but I can't tell what… and I don't even want to begin to imagine what it could be. "Did you need something?" He is silent for a moment, "I… yes, a glass of water would be nice."

After I retrieve the glass of water for him, I return. I wince as I hear a groan of pain escape his lips. "Wright…" is my only word to him as I hand him the water. He drinks a bit, then looks steadily into my eyes. I must admit, it makes me a bit nervous, the unbreaking gaze he holds with me for a small time. "Miles… call me Phoenix…" We hold the gaze a little longer before I look away. First names, they've always made me uncomfortable. Silence; Phoenix drinks his water thirstily and then another meeting of our eyes. My heart skips, the way he looked at me, but no… it was long over and this was no time to consider or bring it up. I sit once more at the foot of the bed, my hand strays to sit upon Phoenix's lower leg before I think much on it. It doesn't seem to bother him, perhaps it even comforts him, though I doubt that. He lays down his glass and as soon as he's settled once more in bed, he falls asleep. I can't help the passing thought that perhaps my touch had helped him, but I push that notion aside, my hand still on his calf. I feel the tears threaten again, but chewing my lip holds them back.

…

Apparently I fell asleep. I must have fallen back, but my hand still rests on his leg. I am awoken by his oddly dressed daughter, who comes into the room and is a bit shocked to find me there. She seems like she wishes to ask me something, but then stops herself, grins a mischievous grin and leaves the room. I admit that I am a bit irritated at being awoken, given my lack of sleep. Not quite in my right senses, I move to the head of the bed and fall asleep on a spare pillow there.

…

My eyes slowly open and I realize that I feel something around me. It takes me a moment to remember where I am, another to figure out that it is Wright's arm around me. A sharp but quiet intake of surprised breath and a thump of my heart is my only reaction, except for when I gently lay my hand upon his, wishing that it isn't a coincidence that he had snuggled next to me. Why am I thinking this? He will be gone soon, he will always remain in my heart, but there is no reason to drudge up old memories. Everything is settled. I gently remove his arm from me before wandering out into the main room. I must look a sight because the odd haired fellow, what is his name? Apollo? Yes, Apollo, he gives me an odd look and there is a moment of silence between us before he speaks up, "Trucy went with Larry to get your stuff from your hotel room." I gape at him, falling asleep or not, this was not what I had had in mind. I had planned to return to my room immediately upon wakening. He sees my shock and it appears to surprise him. A few moments later he attempts to explain, "Trucy was just… under the impression that…" he pauses for a moment, "That Mr. Wright would… appreciate having you here," he finishes, and clears his throat uncomfortably. After staring at him for another moment, I make my way to the bathroom. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I realize I look more of a sight than I anticipated. Rumpled clothing, messy hair… tired face. Turning on the faucet, I splash my face with cold water and use my fingers to fix my hair a bit. Unusual as it is, my appearance doesn't matter to me as much as usual. There are more important things to worry about. Apollo's voice surprises me as it comes through the door to inform me that there are extra toothbrushes in a lower drawer. After thanking him, I find one. As I brush my teeth, I stare at my still tired face in the mirror. Once so good at hiding my pain, I can see the pain I am in… and I hope to God that no one else can.

I wander back into Phoenix's room to find all of my things there. He appears to have just only wakened and gives me a curious look. I blush only slightly and the only word I say is, "Trucy." He smirks; I can tell he is having one of those inward thoughts I am so used to seeing him have. "She's quite the blunt girl, my Trucy is." I look at him perplexed, but he doesn't elaborate. The thought wanders into my head, how long does he have, how long will I have with him? It isn't until after Phoenix's reply, "A few months," that I realize I voiced my thoughts out loud. I blush again, something unusual for me, I wonder how much I voiced. Silence fills the room again and it occurs to me that I really haven't fully grasped the reality at this time.

…

A week has passed and I spent my sleeping hours in the guest bedroom. Every time I leave the room, Trucy gives me a look of disappointment, though I have no idea why. Nearly every waking moment, I spend at Phoenix's side. It feels ridiculous to do so, but there is the tiny part of me that, despite how he feels, wants to be with him and be with him as much as I can before I lose him forever. As he lays there, my hand subconsciously rests on top of his and I sit with my face buried in the other. I wasn't sure if by this point I am capable of feeling any more pain, it has literally physically exhausted me. While slipping in and out of consciousness from my exhaustion, I hear Wright mumble, which causes me to be alert once more. I know that I heard him say my name, I am sure of it. I can't help but listen as he mumbles, it sounds as if he is having an unpleasant dream.

"Forgive me…"

A pause.

"I reacted… I didn't think."

My breath catches, could he be… no.

"Miles…"

The words that I hear next… are what I least expected.

"Love… you."

My mouth hangs open in shock as for a moment joy fills my heart like it hasn't in years. Then I realize, it's only a dream. And more painfully, I realize that even if it isn't, there are only a few months left for him. Though I'm constantly reminded of this by Wright's ill appearance, the thought of it once more causes a stab in my heart. I hear rustling and I return my attention to Phoenix, the dream seems to have taken a wrong turn… he is sweating slightly and his distress is apparent. I'm contemplating whether or not I should wake him when he jolts upright in his bed with a gasp, and I swear that I see a few tears in his eyes. I remember dreams like those, the painful dreams and before I know it, before I have even considered what I am doing… Wright is in my arms as I stroke his hair, speaking soothingly to him. The way he relaxes against me, yet clings so tight takes me aback. I continue stroking his hair, I staring at the back of his head in confusion. What had he been dreaming? Why is my embrace so comforting to him? Why had he wanted me here in the first place? Why is he clinging so tightly to me?

His guard is down, I can tell… he opens his mouth to speak, but I put my fingers to his lips and continue soothing him. There is silence, peaceful silence with Wright's thin body against mine and my heart fills with the feeling that for once I hold purpose in his life. It's a peaceful moment and I am surprised when it is broken, "Haven't you ever wondered what was in those e-mails?" I feel a tug at my heart. Of course I have… but I don't want to know, I know I don't. I can't respond and he seems to interpret the reaction how he wishes. He takes in a shallow breath of air, as if preparing himself, but lets it exhale once more without saying a word.

I'll admit, the silence, I enjoy it. When it falls, it's as if things had gone a completely different way fifteen years back, with the way he clings to me so tightly. I am too comfortable, and I let my guard down. I'm not sure if the kiss I lovingly plant on his head surprises him or me more. I hastily make distance between us and the silence fills the room. It's a bad silence, and I'm not sure what to say, what to do… I stare at the ground, but I can still feel his eyes burning into me. There's nothing to say. I stand up, I have to leave… have some time to think, have some time to regain any of my dignity that I can.

But I try to leave, I realize there is a hand tight on my wrist, tighter than I would have expected from Wright, but it is indeed him. I turn around and look into his eyes and that in I see in them, the emotional pain makes me completely forget that behind that hides a horrid physical pain. Our eyes hold to each other's, his dimmed blue eyes against the steel gray eyes whose emotions I so often try to conceal. He diverts his gaze to the ground and so quietly, I hear these words, "Miles… don't leave me again…" I'm certain my eyes widen in shock as his meet them again. He drops his hand from my wrist. The desperation in his eyes, the fear… it is heart-wrenching, and yet at the same time, I know that this must be a dream. It has to be a dream… no words seem to be able to escape me. Silence fills the room, Phoenix's desperate eyes are on me still. I'm not sure that my legs can hold my weight much longer and I sit on the bed, not wanting to collapse like an imbecile. I feel his hand grip my arm, I wonder how dire of a mistake ignoring those e-mails had been. I can feel it, he is scared… so scared. How could he not be? Any man that knows he's dying would be frightened. "Miles… please," the desperation in his voice shocks me, "I need you…" I am shocked to hear these words, this has to be a dream, it can't be real. The moment I feel the desperate and frightened way his arms wrapped around me, I can deny it no longer. I can't deny that this is real… and that he needs me.

I wrap my arms around him, pull him closer and hold him as if I will never let go. I push the thought that I will have to into the back of my mind. We sit holding each other for what seems to be ages, him in my arms and my confusion rampant in my mind. I know now, I know what a horrible mistake it had been to ignore those e-mails, the contents were the opposite of what I believed it to be and the years wasted would definitely haunt me 'til the end of time. My thoughts are finally interrupted by the three words I had longed to hear, had longed to hear on that day fifteen years ago and ever since then, "I love you." The happiness I feel at those words quickly hamper as his frail body reminds me of the situation and how little time we have. I hold him closer, my mouth next to his ear and whisper the words that I know this time will receive acceptance.


End file.
